


Good Morning, Baltimore

by wecarryoninmindpalaces



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Division of Power, Established Hannigram, Freddie is along for the ride, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Hannibal is a mob lord, It's Hannibal's world, Jack is under his thumb, M/M, Modern Day Setting, Smut, They're just surviving in it, lots of smut, mafia!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 17:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1396693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wecarryoninmindpalaces/pseuds/wecarryoninmindpalaces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Baltimore was the perfect place for a growing family. The crime rate was low, the people were friendly, the entire community worked for one goal.<br/>It was a perfect, bustling little city.<br/>That's why no one saw him coming.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface - Little Alfreda Lounds

Alfreda Lounds was a pretty little girl, who lived in a pretty big house in a quiet town called Powder Mill Park outside of Baltimore. Her father, Frederick, was editor in chief of the Baltimore Sun, and he adored her. "My little Freddie." he called her. He had wanted a boy.

When Alfreda was fifteen, her father introduced a man new to the city from a country she was sure she had heard of from a world history class. He was in his mid thirties, no doubt, with sandy blond hair, maroon eyes, and a dark suit, with an even darker smile when he gave her a kiss on the hand. "I'm Hannibal Lecter." he told her. She said she was pleased to meet him.

When Alfreda was nineteen, Frederick died. Suicide, actually, a single shot to the head, in his private office at the Sun. His prints were on the gun, his and his alone, a man named Jack Crawford informed her. There were no warning signs, there was only a message left on his answering machine from Hannibal Lecter, now known to the public as  _Doctor_ Hannibal Lecter: head of staff at St. Agnes Hospital on the outskirts of downtown. Regardless, his will was found in the deposit box as it would be, updated only the month previous on the accounts of a heart attack, citing Alfreda "Freddie" Lounds the sole inheritor of his estate. All five thousand two hundred seventy-nine dollars of it. There would have been more, if only most hadn't ended up in bad investment after bad investment. But the house had been rented out for years, the mortgage paid off in spontaneity when her father gained a raise, with the profits lining her savings account. 

When Freddie was twenty-nine, she finally met Will Graham. He had moved from Louisiana not long before Frederick's suicide, working as a consultant for the longest time before finally making his debut at the FBI as a permanent profiler under that Crawford man she had met so long ago. She didn't realize until the annual hospital gala, which she was photographing for the Sun, he was also still under Dr. Lecter. Least she could assume with the way the doctor introduced him to new colleagues as his partner of umpteen years, while reminding old ones who more than happily recalled Will's charm, with a brilliant smile and the designer tuxedo he wore.

"Alfreda!" Hannibal grinned, his hand on the small of Will's back, the other holding a glass of champagne, "I don't think I've seen you all night."

"Hannibal, so good to see you again." she shifted her hips, the long, gold dress she wore leaving little to the imagination, "I'm working right now actually. Photographing for the Sun."

"Your father would be very proud." he nodded solemnly, his eyes never leaving the top of her head. "Oh, how rude of me. Alfreda, this is William Graham, my partner. Will, this is Alfreda Lounds, the daughter of an old friend of mine."

"Please call me Freddie." she smiled, reaching out for a handshake. 

"It's very nice to meet you." Will gave a charming smile, his thick curls slicked back and goatee trimmed, and kissed her hand just as Hannibal did all those years ago. 

When Freddie Lounds was thirty, she knew something wasn't right with those men. 


	2. Will, Sweet Will

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Hannibal enticed Will one day in the subtlest way.

"You tease." Will grinned, his fingers nimbly unbuttoning his dress shirt. "What a lovely gala you hosted, Doctor." 

Hannibal smirked, licking his lips absentmindedly, "Did you like the crab cake? Or perhaps the lung with parsley?" 

His smile faltered, "It was all delicious, Hannibal." 

Hannibal frowned, "Didn't I tell you what the menu was?"

"I-"

"You  _like_ lung, we test tasted everything." he rubbed his temples. "I do this to make you comfortable with accepting this lifestyle and this is how you thank me?"

Will wrapped an arm around him, "Oh, darlin',  _I do."_ he kissed the man's neck, trailing them down his shoulders as he removed the offending undershirt restricting him from his lover's sweet flesh. "I  _loved_ the lung." he grinned. "But I love  _you_ even more." and Hannibal had to smile at his lover's affection. Will was Hannibal's, as Hannibal's was his.

* * *

A long time ago, what seemed longer than thirteen years, Will was a dancer at one of the many clubs Hannibal had... _acquired_ over the past couple years, though it was on a whim that the doctor decided to make the trip out to the nation's capital and just so happened to see the beginning of Will's act on the pole: a raunchy routine involving a  _very tiny_ red thong, with frilly lace, and matching leather pumps any stripper would likely kill themselves in on the way down if they moved the wrong way. But he survived, clever little thing that he was, crawling his way into Hannibal's lap, hitching his smooth as silk legs around his waist, the curls of his hair fisted tightly as Hannibal thrust up from his chair. 

"Wh-who are you?" Hannibal growled when he lifted Will by his ass, walking them to a private room.

"Will, Will Graham." he panted, his glittery lips smeared into the shoulder of Hannibal's dress shirt, trying to block out the wolf whistles and cat calls the other patrons hurled at him. He didn't do this. He was off limits from touching, too fragile, too soft, the management claimed. 

He snorted, slamming the door shut behind them, tossing Will carelessly on the bed, "What an odd pseudonym." he unbuckled his belt, his cock struggling within the confines of his silk boxers. 

"No, that's my name. William Graham." Will bit his lip, "My stage name is... Graham Cracker." he blushed as he thumbed the edge of his panties, letting them sit at the end of the V of his hips.

Hannibal's eyes softened then, "Will." he played the name on his lips, topping the man. "Will." he growled, catching his soft pink lips with his own hot red one, "Mine." the lace was torn to strips, the lube on top of the coffee table was, among other toys the other guys claimed were fantastic, theirs for the taking, but something felt wrong. He didn't smell of sex, of traces of drugs or hallucinogenics, not even alcohol. All he smelled of, actually, was dog and bathroom polo. "This isn't your calling, William." he chuckled, "What are you really? What terrible thing happened that you have been dropped into my lap?" his lips ghosted over the man's neck.

"I'm out of work. I was a cop, a damn good one, down in New Orleans. I was a profiler." Will gasped, ignoring the twitch of his cock against his belly.

The admittance was not what he had expected. A cop working for a mob lord, and yet, not in the way one would expect. "And your only resort was a stripper?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious.

"It's difficult to find work in DC, with all due respect, sir." Will frowned, "I was told I was receiving a promotion, at the FBI, but they claimed I was not qualified for even the job I had then. I had already left New Orleans, my replacement from Baton Rouge already out in the field."

The maroon eyes suddenly flickered in realization, "Who claimed you work?" 

"A psychiatrist at the Baltimore Institution for the Criminally Insane named Chilton. Frederick Chilton?" 

A hiss from Hannibal, a pang of anger. "He doesn't exist." 

"...What?" 

He grunted, feeling himself go slack in his trousers, though it wasn't as disappointing as he would originally expect. "Frederick Chilton isn't real. It's a pseudonym. For Frederick Lounds, editor in chief at the Baltimore Sun, he was producing a story on rumored corruption in the criminal justice system. You were a pawn. The man planted lies in your resume, arrests, accusations by figments of his imagination, in hopes of a near riot on the FBI that they would ever consider you for such a position." 

Will's baby blue eyes became a storm of grey, tears threatening to fall. "I'm sorry. I can't do this. I can't _believe this._ " he tried struggling out of the man's lap, but eventually gave up as Hannibal's hands kept him in place.

"This is an overload of information to take in, but... I believe now would be the best time to rid of him. Put you back on your feet." Hannibal's grin was killer, just like every other part of him. "You may not know me yet, William Graham, but I am Hannibal Lecter." he put the younger man back on his feet before taking Will's hand and kissing his palm. "And I will do _everything_ in my power for you." he eyed him carefully, gauging everything from the blush that would creep into his cheeks to the goosebumps spreading over his skin. "And to prove I am a man of my word, I will return with suitable clothes." a chuckle from Will was all Hannibal needed to confirm his hopes: Frederick Lounds would be eradicated. And, soon enough, so would his pretty little daughter Alfreda. 


	3. Unorthodox Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> March 2002: Will and Hannibal are at the six month mark, though they may as well be married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Preface is a timeline, with Hannibal and Will filling in the blanks along the way. Wouldn't you like to know how everything happened?  
> WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTION OF ABUSE AND IMPLIED RAPE. IF YOU HAVE ANY TRIGGERS REGARDING THE SUBJECT THE FIRST SET OF PARAGRAPH BREAKS CONTAIN THIS CONTENT.  
> ...okay GO!

Hannibal's home is lovely, Will mused to himself as he padded out from his boyfriend's bedroom and into the hallway. Six months he had gone through this routine, six months of waking up alone in the lavish bed, with the smell of something exotic finding its way into every nook and cranny of the huge home, making his way into the state of the art kitchen to find Hannibal at the stove. "Whatcha making?" and he would slide onto the bar stool overlooking the kitchen.

"Eggs and sausage," Hannibal grinned, "classic breakfast. There's toast coming, would you like your coffee now or with the meal?"

"You know what I'm gonna say," his own grin was blinding.

"Very true." and poured the morning blend into a glass mug, sliding it in front of him with the milk and sugar. "Will you be fine on your own today?" the toaster dinged, the toast flying onto the plate in front of it. 

"Yeah, of course?" Will poured his milk, the coloring close to Hannibal's skin tone, funnily enough, "You have work?" 

"I'm afraid so." he pushed two plates across the bar before rounding the corner and taking his seat next to Will. "Something came up." and left it at that as he ate his sausage, which was Will's cue to nod and eat. 

But Will wasn't stupid, he knew ever since he ended up in Hannibal's lap he was powerful. And not in the hospital or the social circles surrounding the Baltimore area, that went without saying. "...Who am I eating." 

"A man who could not repay his debts."

"The man that attended dinner with us at the steakhouse?" Will frowned, "His wife was sweet." 

"She will be fine."

"...You won't hurt her?"

"What will I gain from her? Thou shall not covet your neighbor's wife, after all." 

A nod, "Very true, I've never seen you harm a bystander."

Hannibal's fork clattered onto the plate, a growl audible, "...The reason you haven't seen me harm bystanders is because I won't  _let_ you see me." he made a sound like a pained laugh, shaking his head, "I'm the most dangerous man in the state, possibly the most dangerous man in the Northeast. Do  _not_ underestimate me, my dear Will." his glare was piercing, leaving Will feeling exposed, even more so than when they initially met. "I have killed for our safety,  _your_ safety. And I will not hesitate to kill again." he kissed Will's palm, glancing up through his lashes with sincerity. "Do you understand, Will?" 

The lump in the man's throat was difficult to let subside, only nodding quickly. 

Hannibal's smile was warm as he placed another kiss on the crown of Will's head, "Today is our sixth month together. I know you haven't found the lavish gifts as exciting as..."

"Winston," Will smiled fondly at the crate where his dog of three years slept contented. 

* * *

 It had not taken long before Hannibal made space in his walk in closet and the double vanity in the master bath for Will, determined in buying out Will's contract at the club. One too many nights Will had ended up on Hannibal's doorstep in threadbare sweatpants and a ripped t-shirt with tears streaking his cheeks and a very red palm on the side of his face, forcing Hannibal to play doctor and psychiatrist in one sitting. The last time had been the worst, with Will's right eye nearly swollen shut and his shoulder dislocated, though the mob lord suspected more had occurred against Will's consent by the way he refused his lover's bed. The owner, Matthew Brown, was a sick man, paying his workers well under the minimum and taking well over half of their "tips", as he saw in Will's paycheck one morning at the bank, and threatening Will with the unthinkable at Hannibal's request for a buyout.

_"I own him for two more years, after that he's all yours." Matthew spat, "You should be so grateful I won't let you buy him out, he's worth more than what you're offering, after his contract expires he'll have pulled in three times that."_

_"I could care less whether your... business venture profits with him or without him. You_ will  _take my offer." Hannibal's demeanor was fair for the amount of anger churning in his gut._

_"You so much as breathe to him what you're planning I will burn his fucking house down!" the man roared, his fist splitting the wood paneling of his office._

_The mob lord's grin was primal, "I hope you see through with it. It would be nice for Will to have a little nest egg god forbid anything... happens."_

* * *

 It was easy enough for him to recruit one of his own into the operation at the news that a Molotov cocktail had condemned Will's home and what few pieces Will claimed were not suitable for Hannibal's home they were so ragged. Still, he was inconsolable. His lab mix, Winston, was not accounted for, though the fire marshal telling them no remains were found of him was a relief. Hannibal had only met the dog once when he gave Will a ride home after a particularly bad night at the club, and it growled at the sight at him, as if Winston could _smell_   the evil on him. But he found it endearing instead of a nuisance, surprisingly. 

The following week, Hannibal made a note in his PDA to check every shelter, humane society, and pound in the area while his recruit staked out the best place for Matthew's disappearance. Coincidentally enough, the morning Winston barked at Hannibal in recognition at the city pound, his man had found Matthew Brown in front of the Smithsonian. And had all but beat the life out of him for good measure when Hannibal had finally arrived later in the evening, telling Will he would be stopping at the grocer for a specific spice essential for the night's dinner. He bought it hook, line, and sinker. 

"Well, then, Mr. Brown." Hannibal's voice traveled through the empty building, "I'm so glad you saw through with your plan." he watched the man loll his head with a small squeal of pain. "You've successfully lured Will into my parlor," he chuckled, revealing the glock hidden in his breast pocket. "And for that I must thank you." a smack to the chin sent Brown's head snapping back, "You've made my job" smack, "all" smack, "the more" a quick crack over the head, "fun." 

"Why do you like to play with your food, Lecter? Didn't your mother teach you better?" another voice filled the space with a tone one could only call smug. 

"My mother taught me it's best to play with your food," Lecter quipped with a smirk, "makes it easier doing down." he leered at Matthew, "I think you would be a good addition to the soup I'm preparing for Saturday's party. Liver tends to work best." there was a cutlery board and a knife set on a nearby table, per the man's request, "However, I do not appreciate tainted meat." he cracked open Brown's rib cage through the flesh with the wooden base of the steak knife, watching the man writhe and howl in pain as his vessels popped open to reveal a lovely purple- one that would look fetching on Will at the party, he mused, mental note to take Will to the tailor's for a suit. 

"Tainted meat?" the man questioned.

"Years of cigarettes, prescription drugs, and God only knows what else." Hannibal's voice was calm over the shrieks of Brown as he sliced the skin open, revealing blackened lungs and intestines punctured by bone fragments, he tutted, "Oh this will never do. No, no, never would I feed my guests such disgusting meat. You may as well toss what little is clean through the grinder and sell it as patte." he chuckled, inspiration striking him, "A la Sweeney Todd, wouldn't you say, Agent Zeller?" 

Zeller stepped forward, smirking, "I would. I do love Sondheim's work, did you know it's going on tour?"

Hannibal chuckled, "We must go when it arrives, then. I'll take will, you take out your new boyfriend, oh what was his name again?" 

"Oh, it's not going to work with Michael." he huffed, "Too clingy, I'm too young for that." 

"You need a man, not a boy, I told you." 

"I know." 

Matthew continued his shrieks in the background, watching his veins suddenly burst and blood falling on the concrete. 

"We will discuss this in extent at the party, good seeing you again, Zeller." Hannibal's smile was cordial.

"Likewise, Doctor." Zeller nodded, taking the man's hand and kissing his wrist before walking past the near dead Brown, kicking him onto the floor for good measure with a sickening crack.

There was one lone gunshot, and before Hannibal knew it he had returned home to his darling Will, Winston on his leash, with a tupperware bowl of patte under his arm, "Will? I think someone wants to see you." and the cry of relief that followed was all he needed to confirm any final doubts that Matthew Brown didn't have to die.

* * *

 "But I may have found something you _will_ like." the man grinned, stroking Will's cheek, "Do you see the package by Winston's crate?" Will nodded, "That's your present. Go and open it." 

Will raised an eyebrow before hopping off the stool and slicing the tape apart with his Swiss Army knife, his eyes suddenly alight with discovery, "Oh my god, how did you-?!" 

"I may or may not have found your old video tapes," he grinned. "I wanted to watch you myself." 

Pulled out of the box was a beautiful vintage cello, made in Germany, from the late seventies. "It's a beautiful," and well kept, apparently, he mused, "thank you..."

"Will you play at the party? I know it's last minute, but I know you can, you can pick whatever you like. Anything but that Britney Spears girl." the man chuckled. 

"...Consider it your anniversary gift, Hannibal Lecter." Will grinned, sealing the agreement with a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'm going to practice while you're gone, you cannot hear it." 

Hannibal smiled fondly, pushing a stray curl back into place. "We have a deal, Will." 


	4. Morning Preparation of the Hannibal Lecter Estate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfreda is disconnected from Frederick, but then again what teenage daughter isn't?  
> Also known as: Hannibal uses Will as a distraction while conceiving a master plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All good? No one's upset? Great! Keep on reading!

Hannibal sat in his winged armchair, watching the florists file in through the back door as the housekeeping staff shuffled out the front, "Ingrid? The roses are for Will, place them on the pedestal outside the doors to the master, please." 

Will could hear heels clicking down the hallway to where he had been tuning his cello just so, until realizing he should probably help his lover with the heavy lifting, and opened the door to find a tall, blonde woman holding what looked to be a very heavy vase adorned with dozens of roses in red and white, with a lone black rose tucked into the center among the uncut thorns.

"These are on behalf of Dr. Lecter." she smiled warmly as Will looked stunned at the gesture, "Would you like me to place them inside the room or leave them outside?"

"No, no bring them in," Will pushed the french doors back, the silver on the walls glimmered from sunlight pouring in, the chiffon curtains swaying with the breeze from the open windows, a nice change from all of the snow the past winter. "Over on the corner table would look nice, don't you think?" she nodded in earnest, happy to put it down, and Will followed her out of the room to find Hannibal, who was still positioned in his chair. "Thank you for the roses, they're beautiful." he leaned against one of the wings as Hannibal reached out to kiss his palm.

"They pale in comparison to you, dear Will." he smiled, the part in less than five hours, the house spotless, both refrigerators stocked with food all served chilled. "Everything is going to plan. Now all we need are the people." and Will could only chuckle at that. 

A door swung open only to find Zeller making long strides through the foyer into the living room, "Dr. Lecter." he gave a quick half bow, "Will," he nodded curtly, "...It's done. The assets have been distributed, the club is up for market."

Will glanced down to his lover, his voice low, "You mean..."

"Yes."

And if Hannibal had to cradle Will for the coming minutes as sobs of relief racked his body, no one was the wiser.

* * *

"I'm not going." 

Frederick stared down his seventeen year old daughter from the rolling chair behind his desk, "I beg your pardon? What do you mean you're "not going"? Of course you are, come on we need to find a suitable dress-"

"Seriously, Dad, don't make me go." Alfreda pled, "We don't belong there-"

"Sure we do, Hannibal invited us himself, why wouldn't-"

"Out of pity!" she snapped, "You're the press and I'm the plus one, it doesn't make sense why one of Baltimore's elite allows so much access to his private life."

"Which is  _why_ we are going. Supposedly tonight is a celebration marking his six month anniversary with that nobody-"

"Will Graham." she smiled fondly, "The rumors swirling around him range from him being Hannibal's childhood sweetheart pulled apart by age and varying career choices all the way to being a mail order bride on a trial period from a sex trafficker in DC. Either way it'd be a wonderful story for the news if everyone wasn't reeling over last September." she fiddled with the sides of her peasant skirt, tugging at them ever so slightly. 

Frederick nodded, "It's very true, but perhaps it's best to let the stories travel by mouth than nightly news." 

"Get Bedilia as your date, I'm not doing this- hey!" a checkbook whizzed past her head and knocked the painting behind her askew. 

"Go get that rat's nest you call your hair under control, get some makeup, grab a dress off the clearance rack at Macy's and be back by six thirty. Is that clear?" her father's voice left no room for refusal.

Her lips were a thin red line, big blue eyes slowly dimming, "Crystal," and snatched up the checkbook on her way out the door, prepared to find the most expensive cocktail dress in the boutique next to her favorite bistro just to spite him. 

* * *

The sun had long since set when Will stepped out of the shower, nearly time for him to make his social debut, but his eyes kept trailing back to the tuxedo hanging over the entrance to the walk-in closet. "It's just a tux, you've worn worse." he chided himself.

"I do think you will look your best, however," Hannibal stood in the doorway with a small smile, "I like it, let me help you with your tie."

Will unhooked the hanger, "Was your first onesie a three piece, Hannibal?" and buttoned up his shirt.

"Ah, no, I actually did not wear a suit until my first trial." Hannibal smiled, "I was twenty-three. And nervous." 

"I read your records, I didn't see any charges." he donned his pants, tucking the shirt in smoothly. 

"I was a witness in a murder trial against my lord, and whatever family I had left." he frowned, eyeing Will's backside for any creasing.

"Obviously you survived, but I want to know how." 

He came round, fixing the tie, "I testified against him, and eventually every other member of the mob, effectively placing them in prison for life with no parole, all while moving the money into my offshore accounts and molding the mob into my image. Is it too tight, your tie?"

Will coughed, "No, but your backstory might be."

Hannibal only chuckled, "It has and always will be my legacy to this family." 

"If you don't mind my asking, who was murdered?" 

"...That does not matter, go put on your aftershave, you smell like something with a ship on the bottle."

Will called back as Hannibal walked into the closet, "If I stopped getting it for Christmas, I'd stop smelling like it."

A snort came from inside the closet, "Noted, William." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to post something, the actual party will be revealed in the next chapter- stay tuned!


	5. The Party: Waltz of the Cannibals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The anniversary party is underway, Will is pouring his heart out for Hannibal, and Hannibal is putting himself on the line for Will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready the plot is finally taking shape! Read on!

Hannibal took a sip of his wine, glancing over the rim at all his guests mingling, making superficial conversation in suits and long ball gowns. Some were from the hospital, others from the opera house, others family.

"Wonderful party, Doctor." a man close to his age gave a grim smile, "I'm so glad you insisted I attend."

"You deserve a night off, Dr. Price." Hannibal lowered his glass, "There's actually someone I'd like you to meet-"

"Oh come now, Doctor, you know I'm too old for that," the man laughed.

"Then you're in luck," the lord grinned, a head of jet black hair nearing their spot by the fireplace, "James Price, I'd like you to meet a colleague of mine, Brian Zeller. Brian, this is the man I was telling you about, James Price." 

Zeller gave a sweet smile, his navy blue suit highlighting just how stark of a contrast there was in his genetic makeup, "Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Price."

"Mr. Price is my _father,_ _"_ was the elder's kind reply, "please, call me, Jimmy."

Hannibal raised an amused eyebrow at their interactions. "I'll leave you two be, enjoy the party, gentlemen." and parted the middle of the foyer as he made his way into the drawing room where Will had last been seen chatting with Jack Crawford, a promising sign. "Agent Crawford, so good to see you again." 

Agent Jack Crawford gave a genuine smile, reaching to shake his friend's hand, "Likewise, Dr. Lecter. Your partner has quite the gift, we've been discussing business- a job offer, actually, as a consultant to our higher profiled cases."

Hannibal's smile was warm,  "How wonderful, I had hoped this would occur." it was no coincidence that he had placed Will's performance in the drawing room, where Jack normally stood- and the bar within arm's reach. 

"Well, Will still needs to accept it in writing, I'll have a contract written up and faxed by tomorrow afternoon. I look forward to your performance tonight, Will. If you'll excuse me, Ms. Bloom and I have much to discuss." Hannibal only smiled as Jack made his way to the other side of the room to meet a woman in a royal blue dress Will assumed was "Ms. Bloom".

"Alana is an old friend of mine." the mob lord whispered into his lover's curls, "Lovely woman, she's actually around your age."

"Trying to pair me off so soon, darling?" was the sharp reply, the grin obvious. 

"Lovely work with Agent Crawford." he pressed a kiss to Will's temple. 

" _Dėkoju_." he breathed, "I need to finish tuning, give me two minutes." and left the older man in the midst of his lavish party. 

"Dr. Lecter!" a boisterous laugh called, none other than Frederick Lounds in a suit most likely from the shop that guarantees the customer will like the way they look, "So good to see you!" 

"Mr. Lounds, what a pleasure." Hannibal smiled cordially, shaking hands, "Where is Alfreda?"

"She was feeling under the weather, no need to spread the disease." a lie, he was not sure where his rebel of a daughter was, all he knew was his credit card was still in tact and she had used it last to fill up her car. 

"What a shame," he hummed thoughtfully, "I looked forward to introducing Will and her, networking is seldom a bad thing." he took a sample glass of wine by the stem, Merlot if he was not mistaken, "So long as you know who and what you are networking with." there was a flash of recognition in Frederick's beady black eyes. "Oh, Frederick, you know as well as I do who Will is." he took a sip of the Merlot, as rich as ever, placing the glass on another server's dish, "Come, we will discuss this in a more private manner." and led him to the butler's pantry.

* * *

Fifteen minutes had passed, and while Will was more than prepared for his solo, Hannibal was nowhere to be found. He fidgeted, brushing the invisible dust off the lapels of his tux and tuning his cello once more, until his lover appeared within the threshold of the drawing room, disheveled yet as elegant as any other day. 

Will mouthed, "Now?" and Hannibal nodded after making sure all the pawns were in place. Jack and Alana standing near the arched windows, drinks in hand, Price and Zeller on the couch, fervent in conversation, and Frederick in the butler's pantry, taking a respite from the excitement of the party.

And Will let his bow glide across the strings, his fingers gently tugging and plucking each note, each note seemingly burst into ribbons of crimson and blinding white light, the love song dedicated to their charming host nothing the guests would hear for another decade until a young woman with red lips and hypnotic voice uttered:

_Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?_

Hannibal's dark eyes crinkled as a thin smile appeared, his posture still tall, his thoughts still unreadable, locked onto Will's rigid form and lidded orbs, his lips parted in concentration as the audience until the last note hung in the air, his eyes rising to meet Hannibal's, the huge smile breaking out with the older man's nod of approval and the applause that followed, the party following with waterworks and variations of "why have you never done that for me?" and "beautiful" mumbled. 

"As some of you know," Hannibal walked to his lover, "this is Will Graham, my partner, my lover. Tonight marks our sixth month together. He all but stumbled into my life, as I his. We are grateful for your presence this evening at our anniversary party." he took two glasses from Price's grasp, handing one to Will, flush with pride, "To my dear Will, may we still love each other til death do us part." 

Will grinned, dipping his head as the women cooed and men grunted, "And to you, my darling Hannibal, may we live to see the day that I may take your name as my own." and the gasps and shattering glass commenced, the couple clinking glasses and taking long sips of champagne, the flashing cameras not catching the glint in both men's eyes nor the smirk on either's lips. 

Frederick Lounds woke to the commotion, his head clouded with confusion, his tongue heavy, and an eye swollen shut. He barely made his way out of the house before Alfreda's Volkswagen Beetle rolled into the driveway, and all but tossed his body into the passenger seat, grumbling about how she was right and made mental note to collect his Mercedes the following morning.

 

 


	6. Little Alfreda Lounds, Reprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A couple years have passed, and Alfreda is worried for her father.

Name: Alfreda "Freddie" Lyla Lounds

Age: 19

Description: 5'6, curly red hair, blue eyes, pale

Contact Info: See Below

"Hey, Doc?" 

"Hm?" 

"Who is this girl?" the nurse handed over the stats chart to her boss.

"She's the daughter of Mr. Lounds, of course." he said through his surgical mask, flipping through to her updated license photo, tracing her smile in his mind, telling himself she was still pretty. "She needs to be contacted."

The mousy girl guffawed, "Sir, it's two in the morning-"

"If we don't she can sue." he snapped, his eyes sharp, "Call her." and he could hear her scrubs squeaking as she rushed to the nearest phone. 

"Can I speak to Freddie Lounds, please?" the nurse, he believed her name was Margaret, whispered into the phone a moment later, "Freddie, it's Margaret at St. Agnes- I don't really know how to tell you this, but your father has had a heart atta- ...yes- yes, he's here I'll get him." she placed her hand over the receiver. "Dr. Lecter, she wants to speak to you." 

He raised his head from Freddie's chart, removing his surgical mask, "Of course." and took it from her outreached hand, "Hello, Alfreda."

"Hannibal, what happened?!" she hissed, he could hear her footsteps and her roommate in the background.

"Your father had a heart attack, as simple as that." he glanced at the clock, "He was admitted at one forty-nine this morning, we have him on aspirin and running his stats, he's going to be fine. Shaken, but fine." he cleared his throat, "Perhaps this would be the sign he needs to retire."

"...Hannibal, I'm sorry, but no he can't. Not until I'm out of here, it's only three more years."

"I know you say that now, but Alfreda he was on the floor of a bar downtown with a beer in his hand- I feared we were going to have to pump his stomach or worse. I didn't know your father was so keen on alcohol, his blood alcohol level was also three times the legal limit for DUI. If the paramedics hadn't responded so quickly, this would have been a very different phone call. Is there anything, anything at all, that could have triggered his behavior?" 

"...The Security Trust scandal, it wiped our savings." Freddie said lowly, "I'm on student loans, Dad's on assistance, we-we are the textbook definition of cash poor right now,"

Hannibal only smirked, his voice still concerning, "Your father told me months ago, I didn't realize it had become so serious." Lies. Hannibal was the one who suggested Security Trust, where he saw the metaphorical bubble ready to burst, Lounds saw opportunity. 

"It's difficult, Hannibal." she sighed, holding the phone away to say, "No, Allie, go back to bed." before she began again, "I don't understand how this happened."

"Has your father considered selling the Mercedes?"

"...It's coming to that."

"I'm actually looking into buying another car, a day car, if you will. I am more than happy to purchase it for more than it's worth." 

"Really?" Freddie's voice rose in hope, "Oh my god, Doctor, if you would-"

"Say no more, I will discuss it with him as soon as he comes round. I hate to have disturbed you, Alfreda, go back to bed."

"...You didn't wake me, Doctor Lecter." she mumbled and he only chuckled, "What? It's true!" 

"A pretty girl like yourself would be out and about, after all, it is college- and yes I remember what that experience entailed. Goodnight, Alfreda."

"'Night!" and hung up. 

 He sighed, handing Margaret the phone, "I've known her for years, she's in college." 

"She sounds sweet, poor thing." the nurse gave a tired smile as she rewound the cord.

"...How long is your shift tonight?" 

"I'm almost done." she leaned up against the check-in desk. 

"Why don't you get off early, I can handle the floor before Isabel arrives." Hannibal tilted his head with a small smile. 

She let out a sigh of relief, "Oh thank you, Lecter, really, thank you." and rushed to clock out. "Have a good night!" 

"You as well." he nodded his head, waiting til she was gone to make his way to Frederick's room.

He was awake, channel surfing though every last one had only infomercials, the cup of water on his nightstand turned over and the Bayer bottle shut tight. 

"Hello, Dr. Chilton." Hannibal clicked the door shut behind him.

"Hello, Dr. Lecter." Frederick craned his head, "How's my Freddie?"

"Taking it as well as anyone can. She was awake, so there's one small favor." he sat in the chair next to the bed, "...If you had told me-"

"It's not your concern-"

"I would gladly buy the car-"

"How would you know-"

"You know I would." Hannibal ended darkly. 

He stopped then, his beady eyes squinting, "You-"

"You wronged my dear Will. And in a very dark, twisted way, I suppose I should thank you for doing so. Your riveting story on corruption in the justice system dropped Will Graham to the bottom of the heap, specifically onto a stage to be made a mockery of, and subsequently into my lap to redeem himself." he removed his coat to reveal his grey dress shirt and red tie. "Will Graham died when he met you, and rose from the ashes upon meeting me." he rose, his hand reaching into his pocket for a cloth, "Let it be known, Dr. Chilton, that no harm will come to Alfreda." he pressed the cloth down over the man's now gaping mouth and flaring nose, stilling flailing arms with his torso, "I only plan to leave her exiled." and at that point the body was still, knocked out long enough for Hannibal to wheel it down to surgery for emergency extraction of a failing kidney. 

* * *

The following month, an 8-bit cry disturbed an English II final exam at the University of Maryland. The professor confiscated the phone, placing it at his desk before it wailed again, noting it was a blocked number. He snapped it open and shut again, shooting the owner a pointed glare, and then it buzzed. There was a text reading:

**This is Jack Crawford with the FBI.**

**I don't know who has Alfreda Lounds' phone, but**

**whoever does** **needs to return it.**

**I will be calling again in two minutes.**

**If I am not put in contact with her, I**

**will send an agent to collect her.**

Two minutes passed. 

"Hello?"

"Alfreda, this is Jack Crawford with the FBI, how are you this morning?" 

She shifted her hips outside the door of the lecture hall, "Fine, and yourself?" 

"I'm sorry I could not be there in person to tell you, but... there's been an incident at the Sun."

She cursed herself for not checking the news, "How bad is it."

There was a pregnant pause, and after what seemed hours, Jack finally blew out a sigh, "It's your father, Miss Lounds." 

She crumbled, her legs gave out and hit the tile with a resounding smack, her hands stung from impact, her eyes stung as the tears washed away her mascara, everything stung. The other students paid no mind, it was finals week, this behavior was the norm. "He's dead, isn't he."

The words that followed from the man's mouth made no difference, her father was gone. The man that had done everything for her was-

"Freddie?" 

And her precious nickname tugged her out, "Yes, Agent Crawford?"

"Can you come down to the bureau sometime today? Answer some questions?" 

"...Yes, sir, I-I can." 

"Again, my condolences, I will see you soon."

And she snapped her phone shut, resisting chucking it at the nearest wall, instead curling up into herself until her professor stepped outside. 

"Ms. Lounds, you must come back in and finish the exam, I can't allow- what happened?" the man with powder white hair and well worn eyes, eyes that had seen more than they should have, glanced down at her.

"My father is dead and I'm now involved with an FBI investigation, that's what happened." she bitterly replied, pushing herself up off the floor. 

He only shook his head, "Enjoy your summer, Ms. Lounds, if you see me on campus, don't hesitate to say hello." and closed the door to the hall behind him as he called time, snatching up papers in his wake.

She could not run out to her car fast enough.

* * *

The Mercedes pulled into the parking garage under the bureau, Will quickly maneuvering into the parking space next to Hannibal's shiny new Bentley when he saw his lover making his way down the staircase. "What is going on?" Will called to him, locking up the car. 

"Our colleague, Frederick "Chilton" Lounds is dead. Suicide, apparently." 

The words processed quickly, his smile almost primal, "Is he now?"

"Yes." 

Will licked his lips, glancing up the stairs, "Have you any proof?" 

The corner's of the lord's mouth tugged upwards, "An entire banquet's worth. He was an organ donor, you know." 

"Delicious." the younger man smirked, "I will see you at home, then?"

"You will." the Mercedes was still running, and upon hearing his lover's answer Will climbed back inside, leaving just as quickly as he came, passing a Beetle on the ramp.

"Alfreda." Hannibal finally said as she stepped out.

"Hannibal," she tiredly replied, putting up no protest as he hugged her, "I'm scared."

His chest rumbled in a quiet chuckle, "I know. He was too. You are stronger than your father. Remember that. Come, upstairs. Jack is waiting for you." and like the shepherd with his flock, they walked in tandem to Jack's office. Only then did he muse he could only lead his lambs to slaughter. Every last one. Including Will.

 


	7. We Go On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie begins a game of friendly fire.

"Did your father show any signs of depression, Ms. Lounds?"

"No, Mr. Crawford."

Tick.

"Your father had recently been admitted to St. Agnes regarding a heart attack at the Devil's Den, a tavern in the city, correct?"

"Yes, Mr. Crawford."

Tick.

"Was your father an alcoholic, Ms. Lounds?"

"...Not from what I saw."

 Tock.

"Did you know your father had an emergency surgery in regards to a failing kidney that night?"

"Not until after the surgery was performed."

"Who informed you?"

"Dr. Hannibal Lecter."

"Did he also inform you of his suicide on the first of May?"

"Yes." 

Yes.

Tick.

Yes.

Tock.

yes........no.

Tock.

No.

Tick!

No!

TOCK.

NO-!

!!!!!

"-OH!"

Freddie shot up in her bed, a death clutch on her sheets. She typically had these nightmares closer to the first of May, yet it was mid June. Twelve years later, her subconscious was still her worst enemy in the most trying times. 

She swiped her phone open, and waited for someone to pick up on the other line. 

"Freddie? You know how late it is? Or how early?"

"Not really, no, Jack." she huffed, her heart pounding against her will, "But I do know... I want my father's case reopened."

 


	8. All Hands on Deck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal is taking every precaution to protect his own.

Jack summoned Hannibal later that day- two espresso shots and a puff of Bella's prescription later. "How may I be of assistance, Jack?"

"She's onto you. She's asking to reopen his case." Hannibal's lips were already thin, let alone a straight line. "...What did you tell her."

"We would determine with the DA and get back to her within forty-eight hours."

"You know I did what I had to do, Jack, and you also know..." he paused wistfully, weaving his fingers through what was left of the smoke from Bella's prescription. "What you had to do to survive." his iPhone buzzed in his coat pocket on the rack across the room. "May I?" he left no room for argument. "Yes, Will?"

"Jack has some... concerns regarding our arrangements in Baltimore," Will was out of breath, but pacing himself, most likely somewhere downtown trying to find a more private avenue. "Are you home?"

"I'm already with him. Go home, my dear boy. I will meet you shortly." and hung up without another word, turning most of his attention to the other man in the room, "I will be expecting your decision tomorrow, Jack, yes?"

Jack gave a resigned sigh, eyes looming over the good Doctor's head to the chandelier made of antlers, a gift he had received from Will years ago after a hunting retreat in Virginia. He wished, no, demanded for it to strike them down in some serendipitous fashion, "Yes, Dr. Lecter." and watched the man in the suit stitched from his wrongdoings and trespasses walk out his office without another word.

* * *

Hannibal had never seen Will so pale before as he did the moment the door opened, "What has caused you such grief."

Will drew a shaky breath, "I'm cold, Hannibal, nothing more."

"It's June, Will, the heat index is well into the nineties." the older man tried to save face, palming Will's forehead, "You don't feel like you have a fever, has your diet changed? Did you push yourself too hard at the gym yesterday?"

"I went out with Beverly to this new sushi place yesterday, but that shouldn't make me feel any different," Will fought the urge to roll his eyes at his partner, "I think... I think it's my conscious getting the better of me. I know that when Freddie reopens the wound, it could be the end of us and everything we know." the television was whirring away in the background, a flurry of rainbow flags and people chattering away in hushed excitement. "What was the verdict?" Will pulled away to grab the remote and bump up the volume though he read the headline far quicker: Gay marriage was legal.

"Today is a huge step in the right direction for our country and our people and while it will not change everything-" Hannibal heard a reporter jabber on as he retrieved two flutes from the bar and a bottle of champagne from the cooler.

If Will had been watching Hannibal he could have seen the cogs and wheels of his mind flying at lightning speed. But his own mind was racing ahead of him, it had been racing since that morning, towards matching black and white tuxedos and an altar somewhere in one of Baltimore's finest venues, and a long, permanent honeymoon somewhere on the French riviera.

"Hannibal?"

"Yes, my dear Will?"

"...We can get married."

Hannibal tried fighting the grin spreading his lips wide and baring his teeth, "Yes, yes we can. We can be bound together on paper and enjoy all of the advantages to marriage. Including... if it comes to this, reserving the right to not testify against the other in a court of law."

In any other setting, Will would have scoffed at the idea of having to testify against Hannibal, but in that surreal somewhat horrifyingly true moment, it would eventually come around. He licked his lips, peering up to the vaulted ceilings instead of the oxblood eyes now piercing his throat. "Spoken like a true criminal, Dr. Lecter."

* * *

 Freddie was naked when she got the call from her boss. She had just stepped out of the shower, her thick red curls not even wrung out, as her iPhone chirped to life. "Yes, Ma'am?"

"Freddie! So glad I could catch you! Listen, I was wondering if you wanted a different assignment for Friday's paper? Maybe a rhetoric on Obamacare?"

"...I thought I was on the Society page this week?"

"Gay marriage has been deemed constitutional! I... wanted to do a piece on Hannibal Lecter and his partner, Will Graham? I've known them for quite some time, and I reached out for an interview not even expecting a reply, but they said yes!" the young woman squealed on the other end, "Would you mind if we swapped? You'd get front page?"

Freddie bit her lip, a small groan emerged, "Alright, Abigail, I'll take the assignment. But you owe me!"

"You get a three day weekend next week," Abigail grinned, flipping her chocolate brown locks over her shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow then, alright- bye."

"Excellent work, Abigail." Hannibal gave an affectionate glance from across the island, "You know, I always wondered what political commentary Alfreda would provide. While she strikes me as a Democrat, her father was a through and through Republican. So I suppose we shall see come tomorrow, hm?"

She only nodded, plopping into the chair in the corner of the kitchen, "Can I see the peeler and that orange on the island?"

Hannibal handed it off, cutting open part of the skin as a head start, "You could rip it off with your fingers, though your fresh manicure would say otherwise."

"Hence the peeler, Papa."

"Shall we begin the interview after your snack?"

Abigail was a bright and truly beautiful young woman, inside and out. Hannibal had known her, her whole family in fact, for as long as he could recall in his time stateside. Her father was a butcher, and her mother a homemaker.

When Abigail was four, her father was arrested on multiple murder counts. When Abigail was six, he was convicted and sentenced to life in prison. At age seven, her mother had not recovered, and was eventually sent away to an asylum for treatment. Garrett Jacob Hobbs died in a prison riot. His wife committed suicide shortly after being informed, which left eight year old Abigail Hobbs, and all her family owned, in the custody of the state. The closest thing Abigail had to family was someone her parents referred to as Dr. Lecter. Hannibal enjoyed telling the story to his counterparts whenever Abigail was introduced, after she had left the room.

* * *

 " _She stared up at me with big, blue eyes, almost translucent. All she had were the clothes on her back and a brown teddy bear. I kneeled down and told her not to be afraid, that I would be her family until she no longer needed me. She trusted me enough to be carried off to the car, and while I had some idea of how to care for children, I had no idea how much trouble you could get into if you didn't have a carseat." the guests all chuckled at the idea of the great Hannibal Lecter fiddling with something as bulky and frustrating as one in his Bentley. "When I gave Abigail a tour of the house, Will was already in the kitchen playing with our dog Winston. Her eyes lit up and Winston nearly tackled her in excitement of a new person in the house. And Will," he always paused for a moment at this part, "Will was so terrified he actually avoided her for a week. It wasn't until one evening when I was caught in traffic that Will and Abigail truly bonded."_

_It was Will's turn to play storyteller, "I was in the study, reading up on a particularly grueling case, when she peeked her head in through the doors, and she was holding a book I hadn't seen in years, probably not since I was a teenager. She was trying to read Harry Potter, but couldn't make it to the end so she asked me for help- Well, she asked me if I knew where Hannibal was, and then asked me for help."_

_"They were inseparable from that day on." Hannibal would beam with pride._

* * *

"You never get tired of that story do you Papa?" Abigail asked as they were putting away the plates from dinner.

"It is what makes us a family." Will leaned in the threshold, "It's what makes me your Dad and Hannibal your Papa."

Hannibal smiled at that, "That is correct. And in this world, family is all that you will have in the end. It is our crest and our creed." the two agreed to that. "Now, it is late. The deadline has been met, and now we wait for what the morning will bring. Drive safely Abigail." he kissed her cheek before Will led her out to her car.

Hannibal loved his family. More than wealth more than power more than food, that was how much he loved his orphaned adopted daughter and his cop-turned-stripper-turned-FBI-agent fiancé. It made him wonder how much family Freddie had. And how little would be left after the battle.


	9. It's Friday, I'm in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail's interview with Hannibal and Will, and the implications that follow.

AH: Dr. Lecter, it is no secret of your romance with Agent Graham. Most people said it would not last, but a little over thirteen years later and here you still stand- strong as ever. What was your reaction to the verdict?

HL: *laughs* Will and I were on opposite sides of town, I did not realize the verdict would be read that day. I have always seen Will as my partner, my equal, and in my mind we have been married for at least ten years. This is only a formality in my eyes.

WG: I knew, I actually ran out of the super market because I didn't want to make a scene. But once we were at home, I was so overcome... ...I had to sit down. I don't agree with Hannibal on the marriage front, however. I always saw us as companions, lovers even, but never married. It never occurred to me we would live to see the day that we could be [legally married].

AH: I know you both from past interviews and functions, neither of you wear rings despite being a power couple within Baltimore elite. For anyone living under a rock, Dr. Lecter is Chief of Staff [at St. Agnes], and Agent Graham is one of the FBI's best, if not the best, profilers in the program.

HL: You flatter us, Ms. Hobbs. *Will nudges Hannibal in the ribs*

AH: Will there be a trip to the jewelers sometime soon?

HL: The rings have already been selected, yes, Will's is from a local jeweler in New Orleans.

WG: And Hannibal chose a rather stunning one from Tiffany & Co. ...The suits will be custom made by Burberry, Ms. Hobbs.

AH: *laughs* Dr. Lecter, did you propose or did you not feel the need to?

HL: I did propose, actually, over a nice Chianti at our favorite bistro not too far from the hospital. I was afraid someone would leak a photo or two, but no such thing occurred, and for that I am grateful.

AH: Will, do you and Dr. Lecter plan to adopt like many LGBT couples, or are you two content where you are in life?

WG: We adopted once, she was about eight years old at the time, not too long after we had come out to the public. We will not identify her, as both of our professions have left us with some... Adversaries, of sorts. But, we raised her and she's on her own and so... accomplished. We are so proud of her. I look forward to the day when she brings home someone we can strike the fear of God in.

AH: Doesn't every parent? Do we have a date already?

HL: We were thinking this coming April. We know it's less than a year away, but Will insisted a spring wedding-

WG: This has nothing to do with me it's all Hannibal's doing I swear. I might be the "omega" in this relationship, but he is definitely the bridezilla in regards to planning the wedding already. He nearly bit the poor event planner's head off. *Hannibal nudges Will in the ribs*

AH: Thank you for your time, I really appreciate it. We will keep our subscribers updated as the news come in!

* * *

 

Freddie crumpled the copy of Abigail's interview in the wastebasket of her cubicle.

Her story was tossed to the wayside by the editing department, "old news" they had told her, plastering the good doctor and his fiancé on the front page with their pearly white whites and unreadable eyes. She was tempted to dig it back out and deface it with sharpie and lipstick, but ignored the urge.

The Editor in Chief, not only her boss, but also Abigail's boss, Francis swung through into her cubicle. "Freddie!" she slammed her hands into her desk in response, "Really sorry about cutting your article, real-ealy am. I ho-ho-hope this doesn'tttt wreck our-"

"It's _fine_ , Francis." she grit her teeth, "It's Friday, and the city is in love with Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham." she snapped her head back to her computer screen, her curls fanning out and tumbling over her shoulders. "...We're still on for tonight, right?"

"'Course, Freddie." he grinned, leaning on the end of her desk. "Close up with me and we'll go from there." and left to terrorize the next cubicle.

Freddie only shook her head, returning to her work. All her searches regarding her father's apparent suicide rendered nothing new. Every stone, as far as she knew, was turned over and every possible angle of the case ended the same way. She needed a new lead and she needed it now.

"Freddie, you can head out for the day." though Freddie knew she was right where Francis was five minutes earlier, Abigail's voice was distant and cold. "Everyone else is leaving, too. Even me. And Francis." and proceeded to the double doors leading out to the elevators, her tote and laptop in hand.

It was days like these when Freddie enjoyed being on salary, packing up her things as the lights were shut off, row by row. Francis was waiting in the elevator she caught. "I could always do lunch." she gave a sly smile.

He returned it, his teeth peeking between his lips. "That Japanese place down the street has great hibachi, we could go there?" the elevator slid open to the lobby of the building, other companies and their employees scurrying back and forth into elevators and stairwells.

Then the building was plunged into darkness.

* * *

 

Abigail glanced back at the building, already across the street. She saw smoke already spewing out of what was Francis' office window, the entire building dark. She hailed a cab. "FBI building, please." and sped off without another word, tapping frantically into her phone. Like they rehearsed.

**Dad, the building is up in flames.**

**...**

**ARE YOU SAFE**

**Yes, Francis let us all go early. Thank God he did. I'm heading over to you now. I couldn't make it to the garage, so I hailed a cab.**

**...**

**...**

**...**

**I'll let your father know you're safe before anyone gets the chance to ask.**

**See you soon.**

* * *

 

Hannibal greeted her in the lobby, Jack nodded wearily, Will nowhere to be found.

"None of my employees were in the building. I made sure they all got out before it went off. Even Freddie." Abigail murmured when they arrived in Jack's office.

The oldest man sighed, "Fire and EMT have responded, two minutes out. This will spell certain doom for the Sun, you know."

Hannibal sighed, "All good things must come to an end. And with any luck, the Sun will return in an exclusively online format. Everyone will get to keep their jobs, and stay home."

Abigail chewed on her lip, "I hope Reba doesn't hate me for encouraging Francis to cheat on her... And also a possible act of terrorism."

"No one will blame you Abigail," Jack slowly stated. "Not even Francis." he dragged his fingers across his desk, peeling away the finish as he went.

The television hummed softly in the background, all cameras on the Sun building, people still staggering out before the police raced out behind them, pushing and shoving people into the street.

Jack held his breath, glancing at Abigail, "Well?" she reached into her pocket for a burner phone- a Nokia brick, squeezing it tightly. And then the building came down in a pile of smoke and rubble.

Will pulled his lab coat off as he came into the room, "Well done, Abigail." he rubbed her back soothingly as her resolve crumbled into a heap of tears and guilt. "Welcome to the family."


End file.
